


The Stein Job

by Croik



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:46:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Croik/pseuds/Croik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cobb wasn't always known as the greatest extractor in the business.  In the early days of his criminal career he had to fight to gain respect not only from clients, but his fellow extractors.</p><p>When Columbia Industries hires him to sell out one of those fellows, he chooses to walk the dangerous line between completing the job as a snitch and maintaining his honor among the thieves.  With Mal's death still too fresh in his mind and struggling with a cantankerous new team member, not even the ever-dependable Arthur is enough to help Cobb finish this job smoothly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stein Job

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** This is a sister-fic to Eustacia Vye's [_The Meier Job_](http://eustacia-vye28.livejournal.com/620577.html). The fics are self-contained so reading both isn't necessary to enjoy them, but you'll get more out of them if you do! 
> 
> If you've read my other _Inception_ fics you'll recognize one of the OCs, but this fic is _not_ directly related to _The Paradox Job_ or _Hearing Hoofbeats_.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, Tanithkitty, and my artist chosenfire28, for taking my fic on in addition to all the work she's already done for this challenge. I appreciate you both so much!

  


Cobb huddled under the Winde Café's awning for almost an hour before the taxi showed up. The window rolled down only far enough for a man's crooked finger to beckon him forward, and with a mumbled curse Cobb hurried across the sidewalk. By the time he jerked the door open and dropped inside his jacket was already freshly soaked, and his puddle-washed socks sent a chill into his ankles that spread all through him. He slicked his hair back and tried not to notice the taxi driver eyeing him through his mirror.

"You did say 11:00 over the phone, didn't you?" Cobb said as he squished into his seat.

His fellow passenger tried to shift away to spare his own, dry suit. "My apologies," he said, fingering the bridge of his glasses. "I was detained while meeting with another client. You can take a dry cleaning bill out of my fee, if you like."

Cobb's gaze was drawn to the man's white cuff, poking out just slightly from under the sleeve of his rumpled jacket--and more importantly, the edge of a rusty stain, hastily washed. "No, it's fine. I'm flattered you asked to meet me in person at all, Mr. Jensen."

"Just 'Jensen' will suffice, Mr. Cobb." He looked Cobb over, measuring him, his eyes disarmingly sharp. "I always make an effort to confirm rumors in person, whenever possible. And there have been quite a few rumors about you."

Jensen leaned forward and passed a slip of paper to the driver, who glanced over it for only a moment before putting the taxi in drive. As they pulled away from the curb, Cobb tried to keep a close eye on where they were heading. "Then I guess I haven't been doing my job well enough," said Cobb. "I've been trying to avoid that. Honestly, I was surprised when you contacted me; I thought I hid myself pretty well."

"You did."

_And you're just that good, huh._ Cobb would have smirked except for the tiny flutter in his stomach; he understood what it meant to have been sought out, and even more so what it _could_ mean. "Then you must have some decent information for me. A job, or...?"

"A job," Jensen confirmed. "In fact, we're on our way to meet the client now." He reached into the front of his suit and pulled out an envelope, but after another glance at Cobb's wet hands, he opened it himself. "Ms. Edina Weston, head of Columbia Industries' German division here in Berlin. Have you heard of it?"

"Only in passing." Cobb leaned closer to see the photo Jensen was holding up for him, of a woman in maybe her late forties, with dark, brunette curls, wearing a white lab coat over her tailored suit. "They do medical research and development."

"Indeed. And Columbia's main competitor is Markneuheiten," Jensen continued. "Their main office is also based here in Berlin. For years they have fought petty disputes over patents and accusations of theft and so on and so forth. But it seems now that Markneuheiten is advancing their espionage techniques in addition to pharmaceuticals."

"You mean, extraction."

"Of course. Columbia Industries may be winning their war with Markneuheiten in the business world, but they have yet to take threats of extraction seriously." Jensen shared a derisive look with Cobb. "Thankfully for them, Ms. Weston is very progressive. She has reason to believe that Markneuheiten's president, Mr. Stein, means to send extractors after her and her company, and thus hired me to find agents to counteract them."

Cobb frowned as he took it in. "I'm an extractor, not a bodyguard," he said carefully. "There are things I can do for her, but the surest defense against extraction is to not make yourself vulnerable, ever."

Jensen lifted an eyebrow. "That's not what the rumors are saying about you."

Cobb still wasn't certain if he ought to be flattered or intimidated by the thought of his activities making their way across the criminal world so quickly, but he smiled. "Sounds like you're well informed," he said, and though he should have known better, he added, "Speaking of which, how is it that Ms. Weston has 'reason to believe' she's a target of extraction anyway?"

Jensen gave nothing away in his face. "I am not the only one buying and selling information in Europe, Mr. Cobb."

The taxi slowed, and when Cobb moved to open the door, he realized that Jensen was unmoving in his seat. "You're not coming in?" he asked.

"Assuming you accept Ms. Weston's offer, I will contact you again so that we can settle my finder's fee. Until then, I'm unrelated to anything the two of you discuss." Jensen frowned thoughtfully. "But I will pay the taxi driver to return here, and get you back to your hotel once you're finished. For making you wait."

"I appreciate it," said Cobb. "I hope we can do business again."

Jensen smiled, thin and all-knowing. "That will depend on this job, won't it?"

***

Cobb was shown immediately to Edina's office on the fourteenth floor, a towel over his shoulders and a cup of hot coffee in his hands. Her secretaries were endlessly polite, and she met him at the door with hand outstretched, every brilliant white tooth on display.

"So glad you could come on such short notice, Mr. Cobb," she greeted, ushering him into the office. "You poor man, getting caught in the rain. Have you been offered coffee?"

"Yes--thank you." Cobb took a sip just to be polite, and allowed her to bustle him into a chair opposite her desk. "I'm sorry about being late."

"Oh no, not at all. I hardly noticed." Edina closed the door, and as soon as she was seated at her desk, her smile flat-lined. "How much did he tell you?" she asked with a stoicism that rivaled Jensen's.

Cobb's brow lifted, but he wasn't surprised by the sudden turnabout. "Only that you may be under threat from Markneuheiten's extractors."

Edina pointed emphatically. "That fool Stein is a menace," she said. "He's never gotten over the fact that we built this office--petty, ignorant little man. This is _business_ , god damn it. How _dare_ he think I would give him anything, in my sleep or otherwise."

Cobb set his coffee down and rocked to the edge of his seat. "Can you tell me how you learned about the extractors?" he asked.

"I was sold the information, of course." She harrumphed. "And sold your name, too. This would all be settled already if only I had a name for the extractor he hired, but my informant didn't know it." Her lip quirked. "Which is where _you_ come in, Mr. Cobb."

"Sounds like your money would be better spent on another informant," Cobb said honestly. "Or an old-fashioned mole."

"We _have_ moles," Edina retorted. "We _have_ spies and informants. But none of my go-to men know enough about mind crime's circles to hunt them out the usual way." When she folded her hands, her knuckles cracked. "And Stein is a paranoid old blowhard; there won't be a paper or digital trail to follow. I want to know who they are and exactly what they're after." She leaned forward. "I want these men."

Her intensity would have been comical, if Cobb hadn't been sure of what she was going to do with the men he delivered. "You're asking me to sell out my peers," he said. "Men and women I might know. I don't--"

"I'll pay you sixty thousand euro, in cash," Edina interrupted. "Small bills. And I'd like it done quickly, if you please."

Cobb rubbed his beard; he was suddenly wishing he had brought Arthur with him after all. "I'll have to confer with my associate," he said. He straightened up. "But there is something I can do for you, Ms. Weston, to protect you from extractors regardless of whether or not I can get you names."

"Subconscious training?" She lifted an eyebrow. "I've heard rumors."

"Those rumors started with me, I guarantee it," Cobb said confidently. "You might have heard about a pair of arrests out of Barcelona a few weeks ago." The tilt of her chin told him she had, and he smirked. "They woke up early out of a job because the training I put into place kicked them out of their subject's mind."

"So you have experience in selling out your peers after all," Edina taunted. "Then I see no reason why you should reject my offer." Cobb started to reply, but then he couldn't help but chuckle. "So how much is this extra service of yours going to cost me?" she continued. "They say that once you're aware of mind crime, your subconscious instinctively becomes more aware."

"If that were true enough to protect you from extractors, I wouldn't be here at all," said Cobb. "For another thirty grand I can train your mind to protect your deepest secrets--training that will last the rest of your life. In the long run that will be a lot more valuable than any names I get you now."

Edina narrowed her eyes at him. "Let's make it an even one hundred," she said, "if you'll train me and my head researcher, Dr. Meier. He's as much a target as I am."

Cobb shook her hand across the desk. "Deal."

***

Cobb returned to his hotel. As soon as he stepped into the room, the gentle swell of jazz music eased away the worst of the rain's chill. He draped his soaked coat over the edge of the bathtub and kicked his shoes into the closet. "I'm back," he called.

"I'm in here."

Cobb moved into the main room of the suite, and there found Mal, leaning gracefully over her paper-strewn workspace. Despite the cool weather she was dressed in a halter dress, pale shoulders beautifully exposed, her spine a perfect curve. She was too tempting; Cobb smiled as he stopped behind her and slid his hand up the line of her back to her neck.

Mal hunched away from him, chuckling. "Your hands are cold," she scolded.

Cobb kissed an apology to her shoulder and then leaned back, looking over her collection of sketches. They were all architectural designs: sharp-angled buildings, sweeping, organic parks, intimate sitting rooms. "Hard at work already?" he asked. "I haven't even told you I got the job."

"I knew you would," Mal said, her arm making a smooth arc over the paper. "Besides, we can always use more options."

"True." Cobb moved away to hunt out a dry change of clothing. "But this job is going to be a little different. We have to get the name of another extractor out of a corporate head who deals under the table. It won't be as easy as breaking into his computer, or a safe, if he's aware even on a subconscious level that he doesn't keep physical records."

Mal hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head back and forth as she continued to work on her sketches. "You could approach one of his projections," she suggested. "Simply ask for it."

Cobb smiled; Mal always suggested the most direct approach. He pulled on a fresh button-down. "That will only work if he's actually told someone about the extraction he ordered." He shook his head. "I ought to just extract it from Jensen. I'm almost positive he's the one that leaked Stein's plans to Weston in the first place."

"Arthur says he's an important figure in mind crime," Mal reminded him. "It wouldn't be a good idea to cross him."

"I know." Cobb finished changing and dropped into a chair opposite Mal. "The best way to get the subject to open up would be to put him in his home or office, but getting intel on either is not going to be easy, even for Arthur. It's not like we can just make an appointment."

"So extract his office layout from him first."

Cobb started to laugh, thinking it a joke, but then something in him clicked, and his mind whirled. "With only a basic layout of the building, we could get him to populate the space himself," he mused. "Then break in and study it without risking _actually_ getting caught. Assuming Stein doesn't have a good imagination, that is. But then that's another risk, to put him in one dream, then wake him up and start another..."

Mal flashed him a smirk. Her eyes were sharp and captivating, and it made Cobb's chest tighten. She didn't have to voice her suggestion for him to know it. She went back to work, and Cobb watched, silent and contemplative. But it was difficult to think of anything professional when Mal's perfect hands were gliding over the page, creating art from ragged charcoal. He was ever in awe of her, of the wellspring of life that poured out of her with every act of creation. She was a goddess and he would never be worthy.

"Cobb?"

Cobb stiffened and looked to the door--someone was coming down the hall. He hurried to his feet. "Time to go, Mal."

"Hm?" Mal didn't glance up from her work. "Why?"

"Arthur's coming." Cobb slid a hand from her elbow to her shoulder. "Please, you have to go."

"But I haven't seen Arthur in a long time," Mal protested. "Let him in."

Cobb shook his head. "I don't want him to see you here. Please, Mal."

He closed his eyes and concentrated, and within moments he felt the warmth of her skin vanish from beneath his palm. His shoulders sagged, relieved, but when he opened his eyes once more, he immediately spotted a wisp of fabric on the balcony. He didn't want to look--he knew what was coming--but he did anyway, just in time to catch a glimpse of Mal's disappointed eyes before she turned and threw herself over the railing.

Cobb was still holding his breath when the door opened. "There you are," said Arthur as he approached. "Do you really have to make mazes even when you're dreaming alone?"

Cobb rubbed his face, and when he was sure he could face Arthur with confidence, he turned. But Arthur wasn't alone: a man was trailing behind him, tall and narrow, with cropped hair and rough whiskers. His dark eyes flickered about the room, accessing and judging. It set Cobb immediately on edge and he prickled defensively. 

"Who's this?" Cobb asked.

"Benjamin Bone," the man introduced. When he extended his hand, the cuff of his jacket pulled back, revealing the pale tracks of PASIV scars on the inside of his wrist.

The name was familiar, and Cobb stood a little taller as he shook Bone's hand. "Dom Cobb. Arthur says you do good work. I didn't realize it was you he was going to meet."

Arthur's lip quirked. "Remember those two extractors that were arrested in Barcelona?" He jerked his thumb at their guest. "There were three."

"Ah..." Cobb took a cue from Arthur's expression and offered a sheepish grin. "Well, I hope you're not the kind to hold grudges, Mr. Bone."

"Of course not." Bone pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket. "It's business." His gaze flickered to the drawings spread across the table. "So's that, from the look of it." He moved in to better see. "Arthur said you might be picking up a job from Jensen."

Cobb shot his partner a stern look. "What else did Arthur tell you?"

"I told him because I thought we might be able to use him," said Arthur. "He's a first generation extractor, after all. We've worked together on some tough jobs."

Bone lit up as he peered over Mal's drawings, and Cobb grimaced. "Do you mind not smoking in here?" he asked, his eyes on the glowing butt.

"Can't get cancer from a dream," Bone said. He nudged the sketches about, flipping through them. "Hm. Fancy."

Arthur glanced between them. "So...we have a job, then?" He helped himself to the room's minibar and uncapped a bottle for Cobb, who accepted, though reluctantly. "Or is it another training service?"

"A real job," he said, deciding that he would wait until he and Arthur were alone to mention the rest. As they sat together around the table he related Edina's request, and wasn't surprised by the doubtful looks his comrades gave him. "I know, it's not ideal. We won't even know if the extractor we're after is worth selling out until we have the name."

"Mind crime is still pretty close knit," Arthur said, rolling his beer between his hands. "If we even ask around, and something happens to him or her, it's going to get out that we're rats."

"That's why I'm hoping we'll be able to get something juicier out of Stein to keep Weston happy." Cobb leaned forward so he could shuffle Mal's drawings into a pile, making room for a fresh sheet. "But it's not going to be easy. I'm afraid we won't have an opportunity to do enough recon for a convincing dream level. And since Stein is already aware of dreamshare, we can expect his projections to be fierce, if not organized."

Arthur and Bone both leaned to the edge of their chairs. "So what are you suggesting?" Arthur asked.

"We might only get one shot at Stein himself, which means...we do both jobs together." When he picked up the charcoal he was certain he could feel the warmth of Mal's fingers still imprinted on it. He drew a line through the paper, and in the lower box made a quick sketch of a corporate office. "What we really need is to get Stein somewhere he feels secure, somewhere he might have met with his extractor. If we can get him to project whoever it is, we'll have him. Plus if we're going to extract anything else, knowing the inside of Markneuheiten is a must. But rather than risk getting into the building ourselves, there's this."

In the top box Cobb began to sketch the outside of a skyscraper. "We'll dream for him a rough outline of his headquarters, using whatever information we can easily get. He'll populate the space for us, so that we can safely infiltrate and get the layout." He drew a sweeping arrow. "Then we'll take him down another dream level, and I'll remake the layout with a fresh start. That, way, he'll--"

"Two levels with a mark isn't possible," Bone interrupted.

Cobb had expected doubt, but he couldn't help but be irritated with Bone's terseness regardless. "Arthur and I do it all the time," he said. "It's very possible."

Arthur shook his head. "With the two of us, yes. It's completely different with an untrained stranger, let alone a target." But he was intrigued, and he watched Cobb closely. "You really think you can keep a second level stable long enough for an extraction?"

"Of course I can." Cobb dropped the charcoal and leaned back. "And that new Somnacin we got our hands on came from Dr. Gavde himself. This will work."

"It's not possible," Bone insisted. "And you plan on using a layout you get from the first level to build it?" He took a long draw on his cigarette, and when the smoke puffed from his flared nostrils he looked like a rhinoceros preparing a charge. "You must be out of your mind."

Cobb twitched, but before he could begin to defend himself, his gaze was drawn to an elegant, naked arm reaching over Bone's shoulder. His breath caught and he could only watch as two dainty fingers plucked the cigarette out from Bone's lips.

"Would you mind not smoking that in here?" Mal said. She lifted the cigarette to her mouth, her tongue flicking against the filter, and took a long breath before stamping it out against the back of Bone's chair. "Thank you."

Bone glared at her. "Who the hell are you?"  
  
Arthur glanced between her and Cobb, his brow furrowed. "Cobb?"

"Sorry." Cobb waved for Mal to move closer, and she did, taking his outstretched hand. "Don't mind her; she's just a projection."

Bone considered his crushed cigarette for a moment and then turned back. "Then would _you_ mind suppressing it?" 

Mal's hand tightened against Cobb's, and he knew immediately what she would do if he tried. He wasn't sure he could bear to see it again in one dream. "Actually..."

"She's fine," said Arthur, covering for him, like always. "She helps us think sometimes. Don't worry about her."

"You ought to listen to Dom," Mal said, leaning against the arm of Cobb's chair. "Two levels isn't only possible, it's the most efficient way to do this job."

Bone stared at her, his eyes narrowed. He was trying to figure her out, and it made Cobb more anxious than ever. "If you let the subject populate too much of level one, he could put anything in there," he said, directing his words to Cobb. "He could fill it with his high school locker room for all you know."

"It doesn't matter. If that's where he feels comfortable, we'll still be able to use it." Cobb tried not to notice when Mal slipped the beer out of his hands and took a sip. "If we can find Stein in level one and offer a few suggestions to him, they ought to carry down into level two."

"'Ought to' and 'possible' don't make up a job." He looked to Arthur. "Is this really the type you work with these days?"

"And what type is that?" Cobb retorted.

Arthur held up his hand. "Now hold on; Cobb's new to extraction, but he's been using Somnacin for even longer than I have. If he says it's possible, I believe him."

"Probably even longer than you," Mal added smartly. 

Bone harrumphed and pulled his box of cigarettes back out. "I doubt that."

"My father is Stephen Miles," Mal continued. "The supervising architect of the original Somnacin project. We've been involved with shared dreaming since almost the beginning."

"Good for you."

"Mal," said Cobb. He took the beer from her and put it aside. "That's enough." Arthur sent him a look, and he knew what it meant, but it would be a struggle to suppress Mal again, and the last thing he wanted was for Bone to see that. "Listen, Mr. Bone: this is _my_ job. If you don't want in, you're not in. It's as simple as that."

Bone scoffed as he lit another cigarette, his gaze on Mal defiant. She glared right back. "You'd let me walk out after spilling the whole job? You've got a lot of work left to do with him, Arthur."

Cobb flushed and started to reply, but Mal beat him to it. "Please don't smoke in here," she said.

Bone took in a deep breath and puffed loudly. "Or what?"

Mal's upper lip curled, and she reached behind her, pulling a small handgun out of the back of her dress. Cobb saw it but was slow to register her intent. Even as she raised the weapon toward their guest it made no sense to him, the scene he was witnessing. Her finger curled around the trigger and she squeezed.

The bullet shredded through Bone's hand, poised over his mouth with the cigarette still held, and shattered teeth on its path though his skull. Blood splattered, and with his spinal cord severed his body twitched and then went limp. His eyes gaped, and his breath shuddered out of him a weak, wet gurgle.

Cobb jerked to his feet, snatching the gun away from Mal far too late. He could barely breathe, but he wrapped Mal in his arms, drawing her back from the gory scene. As Bone slumped in his chair Arthur rushed in to support him, but he could do little but stain his hands in the oozing exit wound.

"Jesus..." Cobb looked to Mal in horror. "What did you do?" A tremor ran through him, and he shook her. "What the hell are you doing?"

Mal's eyes glistened as she turned away from the scene. "I didn't want him in your mind anymore."

"Bone, you're dreaming," Arthur said, bracing the man in his chair. "You hear me? You're just waking up." He glanced back at Cobb, shocked and angry, but then kept his attention on Bone until his eyes rolled back and the horrible, choking noises stopped.

Cobb watched, grimacing. "Is he...?"

"Yeah." Arthur scraped his bloodied hands on the armrest and leaned back. The wary look he shot Mal made Cobb nauseous. He didn't have to voice his questions or his concern.

"I don't know," Cobb stammered, still gripping Mal helplessly. "Jesus, I didn't.... Should we wake each other up?"

Arthur sighed. "Actually, I'm pretty sure he'll--"

The ground fell out from under them, gravity reversed, and then Cobb was falling--crashing to the floor, his chair overturned, the IV ripping painfully from his arm. He didn't have time to catch his breath before Bone was on him, knobby fingers winding in the front of his shirt. The next thing he knew, he was jerked to his feet, and his back struck the wall with a teeth-knocking impact.

"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Bone hollered, pinning him. "You fucking asshole, are you _crazy_?"

Cobb fought instinctively, but Bone was stronger than he looked, and he didn't budge. "She's just a projection," he said as calmly as he could manage. "It's not like I--"

"Bullshit!" Bone leaned back, but his arm was tense as if fighting the urge to strike him. "You were bragging about your experience but you can't suppress a single projection? You son of a--"

"Hey, hey!" Arthur came between them, and with a scowl Bone turned away. "Calm down; it's over now. Are you all right?"

"No, I'm not fucking..." Bone scrubbed his mouth against his sleeve; there was sweat on his face, and his eyes were bulging wildly. He shot Cobb one last glare and then headed for the door. "I fucking _hate_ getting shot."

"Bone--" Arthur sighed, and shook his head. "Stay put," he told Cobb. "I'll get him back." He followed Bone out into the hall.

Cobb sagged away from the wall, still partially in shock. He rubbed his face and started to regain some clarity, but when his eyes fell on the PASIV it all fled. With trembling hands he cleaned the needles and packed everything away. He could hear Arthur and Bone conversing at the end of the hall, but he didn't bother to try and overhear; he couldn't get Mal's voice out of his ears. He saw her lift the gun, over and over, himself powerless to stop her. By the time his two compatriots reentered the room the PASIV was taken care of, but Cobb was no closer to fully regaining his composure. So he faked it. 

"I'm sorry," he said as soon as they were face to face again. He had meant it just to appease, but as soon as the words were out he could taste their sincerity. "I'm sorry, really, I didn't mean for that."

Bone crossed his arms. In reality he was even rougher than in the dream, with dark circles under his eyes and scars in his hairline. "If I'm on this job, we do all the planning and training in Arthur's mind, with Arthur's projections," he said.

Cobb thumbed his nose. "I suppose that's fair."

"And if you're really going through with your two levels bullcrap, I'm not going into level two. I can hold down a dream better than anyone in this business, but I'm not going deep. You got that?"

"That's fine, fine." Cobb straightened his shirt. He was tempted to tell Arthur they could do the job alone, but he knew that wasn't true. "Let's just take a breather for a while, and we'll meet later tonight so we can get started."

"Fine." Bone stared at him a moment too long and then snorted. "I already have a room here, upstairs. I'll come back after five." He glanced to Arthur, who nodded. "And you owe me."

Arthur smiled sheepishly, but the expression vanished as soon as Bone had shown himself out. He turned on Cobb. "Now what the hell happened?"

Cobb sighed as he dug into his suitcase. "I'm sorry--I don't know. It wasn't intentional, honest."

"I gathered that much." Arthur tossed his jacket on the bed. "I know he's rough, but he's a good extractor and a friend. I was hoping you'd get along."

"He was _trying_ to piss me off." Cobb pulled out his workbook and a pencil. "If he's so good he should have known better when I already had projections around."

" _Cobb_."

"No--you're right--I'm sorry." Cobb sat down at the room's small table and motioned for Arthur to join him. When Arthur didn't budge, he said again, "I'm sorry, really. It won't happen again."

Arthur thumped into the chair across from him. "Are _you_ all right?" he asked soberly. "I've never seen...your projections act like that."

_Me neither._ He wasn't all right, but he knew trying to explain himself to Arthur wouldn't make him feel any better about the incident. "I'm fine. Let's just get to work, all right? We'll talk about it later."

Arthur made a face--they weren't going to talk about it later. Still, he scooted closer. "Help me come up with a good cover story, and I'll go to Markneuheiten," he said. "I might not make it through the front door, but I'll get as much intel as I can."

"Right, good." Cobb let his concern fade to the background in favor of the job. He just needed to focus on work, and he would be fine. He was sure of it.

***

Cobb was sick of the rain. It pounded on the roof of the ambulance, dulling even the noisy grind of the traffic surrounding them. It made him nervous. "This isn't going to work," he said.

"It always works," said Bone, chewing on a toothpick. Though cleaned up and freshly shaved, he still didn't look fit to be wearing his bright red EMT jacket. "Just follow my lead and let Arthur do all the talking."

Arthur was seated at the front of vehicle, similarly dressed: the uniforms, the ambulance, and its driver were compliments of Ms. Weston, at Arthur's request. Cobb still had his doubts, but he was still woefully inexperienced in kidnapping methods, and he had little choice but to go along with the plan. He twisted in his seat, trying to see the streets beyond, but the windows were foggy and the rain smeared everything together. "How much longer?"

"I can see them," said Arthur. He flipped open his cell phone, and spoke in German to their accomplice on the other end. "They're in position," he related. "Get ready."

Cobb leaned forward, peering through the seats so that he could see out the windshield. They were stopped at a traffic signal, and a limousine was lumbering through the intersection. Before it could complete its turn, a black truck roared out of the opposite lane and charged forward. Horns blared and Cobb instinctually flinched back, just before the impact.

The truck crashed into the limousine's side with a thunderous percussion. Sides caved in, glass cracked and shattered, and all around cars skidded messily to a halt. Cobb clenched his jaw as he watched drivers peer out of their cars, all of them trying to see what had happened but not willing to brave the rain. He did the same, anxious for a glimpse of flashing lights.

"This was a bad idea," he said. "Someone's going to call the police."

"Shut up." Bone zipped up his jacket and shoved the back doors open. "Arthur and I will handle it."

They piled out the back of the ambulance and were almost immediately drenched. Cobb tried to turn up his collar but it wasn't any help as he hurried past the stopped cars, onto the scene. Arthur was already ahead of them, playing his part perfectly as he ordered witnesses to stay in their vehicles. When a pair of men stumbled out of the front of the limo Arthur moved swiftly to them.

Cobb and Bone headed straight for the uninjured side of the limo. By the time they got there the door was already creaking open, and a broad-shouldered man with steel gray hair stumbled onto the pavement: their target, and Markneuheiten's president. He was disoriented, but Cobb didn't see any injuries, and with a hand braced to the side of the car he regarded his would-be rescuers with irritation. "I don't need your help," he said. "Help my driver."

"Someone is helping him already," said Bone in serviceable German. He took Stein by the arm and steered him toward the ambulance. "Just stay calm, sir."

Cobb glanced back to the scene: Arthur was still with Stein's bodyguards, trying to calm them as they argued with the driver of the truck. But as Bone continued to lead Stein away, one of the guards noticed. He sidestepped Arthur and headed towards them, shouting in German.

"I don't need to go to the hospital," Stein continued to protest, but he was unsteady on his feet and no match for Bone's strength. "Who was that driver? I'm going to sue!"

"Please stay calm," Bone replied. They reached the back of the ambulance, and he forced Stein to sit down on the bumper. He motioned for Cobb. "We're going to take good care of you."

Cobb pulled at the gurney, popping the wheels down as it was exposed so that it rested evenly on the street. While Bone urged Stein to sit down on it, the guard finally reached them. "Mr. Stein, are you all right?" the man said. "Were you injured?"

"I'm fine!" As soon as Bone turned back toward the ambulance Stein tried to stand up, but Cobb prevented him. "Will you tell these assholes I--"

"You have a concussion," Cobb said. His German wasn't as good as Bone and Arthur's, but he had worked hard on the most important phrases for their mission. "We're taking you to the hospital."

"Which one?" the guard asked immediately. "I'll ride with you."

Bone returned with an oxygen mask, and despite Stein's continued irritation slipped it over his face. Within moments the gas--decidedly not oxygen--began to take effect, and Stein slumped. Bone prodded him onto the gurney without further difficulty.

"We're taking him to Franziskus," Cobb told the guard, helping Bone strap Stein down on the gurney. "You can meet us there."

"But Schlosspark is closer."

Bone shoved the gurney into position so it could be raised into the ambulance once more. "Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?" he snarled. "We need to leave _right now_ so go back to your limo and wait for the cops, all right?"

The man glowered. "Now wait a minute--it's my job to--"

Bone ignored him, and Cobb followed his lead, pulling Stein into the vehicle. Cobb feared that the guard would continue his objections, but faced with two turned backs the man relented, and with curses headed back to the limousine.

"Told you so," said Bone as he secured the gurney and yanked the ambulance doors shut.

Cobb rolled his eyes and didn't answer, focusing instead on checking Stein's pulse. Reassured that their target was unconscious, he freed the PASIV from a compartment against the wall. As soon as he opened it he noticed a flash of lights outside. "The cops are here."

Arthur climbed into the passenger side and gave their driver a pat on the shoulder. "They're clearing the way for us," he said, smirking. "Let's get out of here."

The ambulance stared up, and as they pulled away from the scene and its growing police presence, Cobb handed out the IV needles. He inserted Stein's before his own. "We'll need at least half an hour," he told their driver. "Between the rain and the traffic it might take us that long to get to Franziskus anyway, but take us through a few backstreets if you can."

"That shouldn't be hard."

Cobb buckled himself in, and when everyone was ready, he reached for the plunger. He looked to Bone. "You're up."

Bone settled in and closed his eyes. "I'm ready."

Cobb took in a deep breath and pressed the plunger.

***

When Cobb opened his eyes, it was still raining. He felt an adolescent flash of irritation toward Bone for letting the above weather affect the dream, even knowing that it would better adhere Stein to his surroundings. He tugged up the collar of his overcoat and turned toward his fellows. "How does it look?"

The three of them were crowded in the back of a van, Cobb and Arthur in expensive suits, Bone in a mechanic's jumpsuit. It was like some cliché out of a spy movie, with monitors showing the interior of Stein's building, radios and laptops and wires everywhere. Arthur was already looking from one screen to the next, gauging the flow of Stein's employees. "It looks good," he reported. "Stein's heading to his office. The interior all looks to be in order." His lip twitched. "Except for the executive bathroom." He tapped on one of the screens, which displayed a Jacuzzi and spa adjacent to Stein's office. "Herr Stein isn't entirely without imagination, but it's limited." He raised an eyebrow in Bone's direction. "Good work."

Bone snorted and stuck a fresh toothpick in his mouth. "Let's just hope he doesn't have any secrets outside the reach of his own cameras."

"He'd have to be on to us already for that," said Arthur. He handed Cobb a tiny, flesh-colored earpiece, and then slipped one of his own into place. "We stay live at all times. The meeting point in the parking garage looks secure--I'll check it out myself before I meet with Cobb on the eighteenth floor."

Cobb nodded along. "If anything goes wrong, we'll keep you updated," he told Bone as he fit in his earpiece. "If Stein knows enough about shared dreaming to hire extractors, his projections could turn ugly."

"I can handle it," he replied. "It won't be like Barcelona."

Cobb's smile was half grimace. "Then let's get started."

Cobb and Arthur exited the van and hurried across the street. Markneuheiten's headquarters loomed over them, gray and oppressive in the early morning rain. Only the stoutest of Stein's employees were trickling through the revolving doors, and Cobb shared polite nods and friendly smiles to everyone he passed. The projections were hurried but not suspicious of him--a relief, but Cobb knew getting through security would be the true test.

He had to admit, Bone had done good work. Using Arthur's limited intel he had reconstructed Markneuheiten's crisp entranceway with militaristic precision, from the faux marble floors to the number of potted plants on the receptionists' desks. Carefully positioned cameras, clocks, and even sticky notes in the security guard's cubicle gave Stein's subconscious every indication needed for him to fill the empty spaces above just the way they wanted him to. It was a subtle but calculated art that Cobb knew came only with a great deal of experience.

They reached the security checkpoint. Cobb pinned an ID to his lapel and smiled to the guard as he signed in. Arthur did the same, and then both were waved through the metal detectors. In the real world it would have cost time and money to get the IDs and hack Markneuheiten's security, and even then their status as strangers would have left them suspicious. In Bone's mind, everything was taken care of. All it took was a few cues to make Cobb and Arthur respected and welcomed researchers. When Cobb glanced left he even saw his photograph on the wall: employee of the month. He caught Arthur smirking at it as they made their way to the elevators.

"I'll see you up top," Cobb said as he pressed the up and down buttons.

"Watch your back," Arthur replied.

They split up, Cobb taking the elevator up to the eighteenth floor, as planned. As soon as he stepped out, he went to work. His eyes swept back and forth, taking in every detail, soaking in the lighting, memorizing the names on the doors. The air was humid and smelled of rain and pine-scented floor cleaner. There were none of the personal and organic touches that decorated the lobby. Everything was brightly lit and sterile white, even the interior of the offices. Most of them were still empty, given the hour, and Cobb spared a few moments to study them before moving on.

One of the names on the doors matched the fake name on Cobb's ID. _Stein subconscious isn't very imaginative, but it is thorough,_ he thought as he slipped inside. _Just as it should be._ He hung up his rain-soaked coat and sat down behind his desk. "Bone?" He started up his computer and slipped a USB off his keychain. "Status on Stein?"

" _In his office_ ," Bone answered through the earpiece. " _I can see you, too. Arthur's just finishing up in the basement_."

Cobb plugged in the USB, and immediately a program of Arthur's creation went to work, spreading through Markneuheiten's system: a perfect virus was another thing much easier to create in a dream. Within seconds Cobb's screen flashed up the same collection of security camera shots Bone was looking at in the van. He clicked to the one depicting Stein's office, but there was only so much detail he could draw from the images. A few more clicks and he spotted Arthur riding the elevator up toward him.

The computer bleeped, and Cobb clicked to another window showing a complete progress bar. "I'm in the system," he said. "Arthur will have to be the one to make sense of it, though." He stood. "I'm going after Stein."

Cobb returned to the hallway, and there waited until Arthur had joined him from the elevator. "My computer's on the fritz again," he said for the benefit of any security or coworkers listening. "Mind taking a look at it for me?"

"Sure," said Arthur, and with a smile he ducked into the office.

Stein's office was behind the last door at the end of the hall. Cobb moved swiftly toward it, sparing a smirk for the executive washroom on the way. At the doorway he paused, catching his breath, steeling his nerves. He had practiced, but he knew what was on the line, and the talking to he would get if anything went wrong. He knocked.

The door buzzed open, and Cobb stepped into the reception area, just as pristine as the other offices. It took some salesman charm to get past Stein's narrow-faced assistant, Greta, but she relented, and walked him to Stein's door proper. "Mr. Stein, Mr. Hector is here to see you," she reported.

"Let him in."

Cobb entered, and paused just long enough to get a sweeping view of the office's interior. Everything was sleek, custom made, and meticulous, without any personal touch or welcoming elegance. If Cobb didn't know better he would have thought Stein was a new occupant, not its master of many years. Once he had soaked everything in, he moved quickly to greet Stein at his desk. "Mr. Stein," he said, "so sorry to disturb you this early in the morning, but it's important." 

Stein didn't look up from his computer. He was in much better shape than Cobb had seen him last: he was focused, straight-backed, every bit deserving of his sour reputation. "If it has anything to do with last night's football game, I'm going to fire you," he said irritably.

Cobb wondered only briefly what kind of history Stein's subconscious had written for him as he sat down. He was not a natural actor, but he knew how to get what he wanted out of other people, and to that effort he put on a strained and conspiratorial air and leaned across the desk. "I had a dream last night," he said, quick and nervous.

Stein's attention snapped to him in full. "What?"

"I dreamt that three men infiltrated the building," Cobb said. "They were after the research data. I didn't think much about it at first, but when I got into work today, I noticed..." He rolled up his sleeve and showed Stein the faint scar on the inside of his wrist.

Stein cursed. "And you just let them have it, did you? Everything they were after?"

"I couldn't help it--it was just a dream. At least, I thought it was." Cobb rubbed his beard. "Sir, I'm sorry. But maybe it's really nothing, maybe--"

"Quiet." Stein grabbed up his desk phone and began dialing. "I'm going to have someone take a look at you. He'll be able to tell."

Cobb straightened. He didn't really believe the whole extraction could be so simple, but he was hopeful, desperately hopeful, that they wouldn't have to go any deeper after all. "Who?"

"Quiet!"

" _I've got the call_ ," Arthur buzzed in his ear. " _I'll patch you both in_."

Stein's call was answered on the second ring by a precise British accent. "What is it?"

Cobb fought not to straighten in his chair; despite his limited experience with the man, he recognized the voice instantly.

" _That's Jensen_ ," Arthur confirmed. " _I'll try to trace it_."

"This is Stein," said Stein. "I thought I was paying you to keep me informed."

"I beg your pardon?"

"One of my workers may have been extracted from. I need you to come take a look at him."

Cobb fidgeted, itching to speak to his partners, but all he could do was listen. "Very well," said Jensen. "Have my fee ready for me."

" _Jensen is an information broker,"_ Bone said as the two men haggled over a price. " _He rarely goes under at all, let alone with clients._ "

" _But Stein wouldn't know that,"_ Arthur replied. _"If he went through Jensen to hire his extractors, he must assume Jensen is one of us. This proves Jensen's playing both sides, if nothing else."_ He scoffed. _"Try to keep the 'I told you so'_ _to yourself, Cobb."_

Cobb smothered a grin beneath his hand, relieved that they already had at least one name to give to Weston that he wouldn't mind selling out. He was careful to look sheepish and serious by the time Stein was off the phone. "Now," said Stein, "tell me everything you remember about your dream."

"It's not much, Sir," Cobb replied. He leaned forward against Stein's desk. "There were...three men. They snuck into the building somehow, trapped me in my office. I think they were trying to find out about the new project."

"God damn Weston. I didn't expect her to catch on so quickly." Stein picked up his phone again and dialed too few numbers for an outside call. "Send Kortig up here," he barked into the receiver. "And put security on high alert."

" _Kortig is the head of security, and he's on the move,"_ Bone said as soon as Stein hung up. _"You'd better pull out, Arthur."_

" _Heard that before. Hold on; I couldn't trace Jensen's call so I'm trying to get to Stein's schedule, see if he met Jensen here the last time."_

"I'm pretty sure that it must have happened at my home," said Cobb, trying to distract Stein--and his subconscious--from an immediate threat. "We have security, but nothing fancy enough to fight off extractors. Sir, I'm--"

Arthur cursed through the earpiece, and an instant later, Stein's phone rang. Stein answered; Cobb couldn't make out what the man on the line was saying, but he had Arthur to fill in.

" _They caught me,"_ he reported. " _System's locked down. We're going to have to move on."_

Stein slammed the receiver back into place. "They're here. Someone's trying to hack into our mainframe." He rounded the desk and yanked Cobb to his feet. "Maybe they weren't able to get it out of you after all, but I'm not taking that chance."

Cobb allowed Stein to lead him out of the office. "Where are we going?"

"Security. You and the rest of your department are staying with Kortig until these men are taken care of."

They stepped into the hallway, and as they passed Cobb's office, he tugged Stein to a halt. "I think Kurt's the only one in yet," he said, knocking on the door.

Arthur emerged, and though he did a good job of looking confused and nonthreatening, Stein eyed him with suspicion. "Why aren't you in _your_ office?" he asked.

"Carl said his computer was on the fritz," Arthur said. "Asked me to take a look at it."

Stein glanced between the two of them, and just when it looked like he was about to speak, the elevator opened with a quiet chime. A man in a security uniform stood inside: six foot five at least, with red whiskers and spattered freckles. Cobb tried not to gulp, wondering if the lessons in dream combat Arthur had given him were up to the task. He shared a glance with Arthur, and when he received a subtle nod in answer, he said, "There's been some kind of breach. Mr. Stein wants us all down in security for safe-keeping."

They headed for the elevator, and though Stein still looked unconvinced by their acting, he followed. "A breach?" Arthur repeated. His gaze flickered up and down the head of security they were drawing toward. "Then the safest thing to do would be to meet up in the garage, don't you think?"

Cobb ignored the confused look Stein cast them. His pulse rose into his ears, but he was resolute. "If you think you can handle Big Red."

"As long as you've got Earl Grey."

By the time Stein caught on it was too late. Arthur slipped into the elevator, and as smoothly as if it were an everyday occurrence, he twisted and jabbed his heel hard into the back of Kortig's knee. The man stumbled, grabbing for a handhold, but then Arthur put all his weight into his elbow at the back of Kortig's neck, smashing his face into the edge of the elevator door. Blood poured from his broken nose, and as Arthur kicked him into the hall, Cobb snatched Stein by his lapels and dragged him inside.

"You!" Stein twisted in Cobb's grip. He used his greater size to shove Cobb into the corner of the elevator, hands grasping for his throat. "It's you, you traitor!"

Cobb struggled, but then he remembered what Arthur had taught him: they were dreaming, and he was only as strong as he believed himself to be. He let Stein grab him by the throat, repositioning their bodies so that he was able to thrust his knee into Stein's diaphragm. It was enough to weaken Stein and throw him off balance, and then Arthur was there, dragging Stein into the opposite corner. As Cobb caught his breath, Arthur shoved Stein to the floor and pressed the heel of his dress shoe into his throat.

"Cooperate," Arthur said coolly, "and we won't have to kill you." The elevator whirred as it began its descent.

" _Well done, Arthur,"_ said Bone. _"But they're just going to wait until you get to the ground floor and stop the elevator remotely. Security's already gathering."_

Arthur motioned for Cobb to take his place. "Then we'll have to get off before then." He pulled a letter opener out of his sleeve--swiped from Cobb's desk--and used it to pry the elevator panel open.

Cobb took Arthur's place in watching over Stein, and was relieved when the man remained still, requiring no detainment. "Mr. Stein," he said, "we know you asked Jensen to hire a team of extractors. Who are they, and what are they trying to steal from Edina Weston?"

Stein spat. "You are making a dangerous mistake, Carl," he said. "I've been good to you for a long time. Not anymore."

Cobb glanced over his shoulder. "Is Jensen not enough?"

"We can't sell out Jensen," said Arthur as he tinkered with the elevator wires. "He has too much clout--we'd be better off leaving the business."

Bone grumbled unintelligibly. " _They're on to me, too,_ " he said. " _I've been cut out of the security camera feed. But Arthur's right--we need another name."_

Cobb frowned. "Then we continue as planned."

Arthur hit the emergency stop, and the elevator halted at the third floor. One more twist of the wires later the doors slid open; Cobb could only imagine the security staff struggling to adjust. He turned toward Stein, preparing himself for a difficult push to the garage, when his thoughts were interrupted by a fist rushing toward his face.

Cobb lurched back and was just fast enough to avoid being decked, but Stein kept coming at him. They collided in the open doorway, Stein's broad hands like bear paws aiming again at his throat. Cobb retreated, twisted, trying to throw Stein off, but he didn't have the height or weight to keep from being thrown to the ground. They grappled only briefly before Stein struggled upright to make a run for it.

Arthur gave chase, but Cobb knew it was a wasted effort; he could hear the startled shouts of other office workers, who had gathered in the third floor cafeteria. Security was doubtlessly on their way and wrangling Stein would be difficult enough, let alone herding him to the meeting point without even weapons to threaten him with.

"Bone, are you in position?" Cobb asked as he clawed to his feet.

" _Almost._ _What's going on up there?"_

"Just get the door open and be ready."

Cobb chased after his partner and their target. A short hall opened into the main cafeteria, and though it was sparsely populated, Stein was heading for the kitchen, where he would doubtlessly find more staff members to defend him. Arthur was close behind and closing, but when Cobb glanced over his shoulder he caught a glance of the stairwell door bursting open. In seconds they would have security all over them.

Cobb clenched his fists, concentrating. The dream surrounding them was solid and steady, a testament to the experience of their dreamer, but Cobb knew all the secrets, knew at which seams to pull. Stein was less than five feet away when the kitchen door he had been heading toward slammed shut and welded into the frame, making it an impenetrable wall. Stein rammed into it with all his momentum; it would have been comedic if Cobb hadn't already been planning his next move.

Arthur caught up to Stein, pinning him to the new wall. "Cobb? You'd better not be--"

He was cut off when the floor fell out from under them. Like a trap door from an old cartoon the tiles gave way, and Stein and Arthur tumbled down an iron chute that sliced through the floor beneath it, directly into the parking garage in the sub-basement. Cobb could hear them cursing the entire way down.

Stein's projections stared. Their eyes were wide, faces blank, revealing their thoughtless nature. Cobb didn't wait to see if they had fully caught on; he leapt down the chute, and as soon as he was clear of the opening it sealed shut behind him. His suit pulled uncomfortably against the slide, but it was a short distance, and within seconds he was rolling across the cold concrete of the parking garage.

"Damn it, Cobb." Arthur hauled him to his feet; he was trying to look cross, but Cobb could see the sliver of amusement in the upturn of his lip. "You can't just change things like that--his projections are going to be all over us."

Cobb glanced about and spotted Stein sprawled on the floor. There was a dart sticking out of his neck, and Bone was dragging him toward the open side door of the van. "I didn't think we had a choice," he said. "We need to get Stein out of here before his security catches up." He gave Arthur a slap on the arm and then helped Bone load their once-again-unconscious mark into the van. "Besides, even if they come after us, I'm sure Bone can handle it." He raised an eyebrow. "Right?"

Bone narrowed his eyes at him and then finished strapping Stein down. "I can handle anything this old blowhard throws at me."

Cobb shot Arthur a smirk as they climbed into the van. "Were you able to hack into Stein's schedule?"

"No. They cut me out too soon for that." Arthur belted himself in, and Cobb did the same, as Bone took to the driver's seat and drove for the exit. "But if Stein was willing to call Jensen right to his office, they could have met there. We could reenact this entire level--minus breaching security--and just wait for Jensen to show up. Extract the name directly from Stein's projection of him."

The van roared out of the parking garage just as the emergency doors began to trill in warning. When Cobb looked through the back windows he caught a glimpse of men in security uniforms racing to their cars. "You mean, torture him?" he asked, an unpleasant taste at the back of his throat.

"That might not work, depending on Stein's impression of Jensen," warned Bone as he swerved down a side street. "If he thinks Jensen can't be compromised, he can't."

"I get the feeling Stein doesn't think that highly of anyone," said Cobb, glancing at the man in question. He took Stein's pulse just to be sure. "But I'd rather not try another abduction if it's going to end up like this one."

Car horns blared, and as if determined to prove Cobb right a truck veered into oncoming traffic straight at them. Bone cursed and jerked on the wheel--the tires screeched on the wet asphalt, and the seatbelt dug into Cobb's waist as inertia shoved him away from the siding. There was one horrible, gut-turning moment when the rear end fish-tailed, but Bone got the vehicle swiftly under control. The truck missed them by bare inches and crashed headlong into the car behind them.

"I don't think that was building security," Bone said unnecessarily.

"All of his projections are going to be after us thanks to you and your playground slide," Arthur grumbled.

"I wouldn't have had to if you hadn't tripped his security in the first place." Cobb leaned around the front seats to try and see the road--he had had enough of car crashes for one day and he was determined to see another before it happened. "Don't worry; all we need is a safe house. Once we're in level two his projections will settle down."

"It's too bad we don't have a forger," said Arthur. "Someone who could pose as Jensen and just _tell_ Stein to call up his extractor."

They swerved down another street, past a duo of police cars with lights flashing, into a factory district full of hollow, towering buildings. Everything was crumbling and abandoned, the buildings slumping against each other like glassy-eyed old men huddling defenseless in the still pouring rain. The bricks and dumpsters and rusty chain-links would appear at first glance to be nothing more than a haphazard arrangement of industrial chaos, but each was specifically placed, creating from the raw waste a complex and elegant maze. Within a few turns Bone had lost their pursuers and was able to continue to their designated safe house with ease.

"I'll recreate the office," said Cobb as they parked in the shipping bay and unstrapped Stein. "But I'll set the date back a few weeks, and see if I can set myself up as Stein's right hand. Then maybe..."

Cobb trailed off when Arthur pulled the side door open, granting the three of them a proper look of the building's interior. It was all cold concrete and moldy brick, as it was meant to be, but more than abandoned assembly lines filled the four walls: several bodies were strewn across the ground, dressed in ragged layers soiled with dirt and fresh blood. Their limbs were contorted into uncomfortable angles, as if each man had been gunned down in mid-motion. Cobb stared at them, already knowing what had happened and who was responsible but not wanting the proof. He took in a deep breath. "Mal?"

Mal stepped out from behind a steel pillar. She was dressed in the same summer halter dress that had been her wardrobe of late, except that the hem was spattered with a gruesome stain. There was no sign of a gun in her hands but he didn't doubt that she would have one if she felt she needed it. "You're here sooner than I expected," she said, smiling.

Arthur was glaring at him; he shook his head, and cast only a quick glance at Bone in the front seat before climbing out of the van. "I didn't expect you to be here at all," he said, and when she moved in close, he kissed her cheek. It spread goose bumps down his neck. "How did you know where to meet us?"

"I helped you design this level," Mal said. "I know it almost better than you do. Hello, Arthur." She shot a sly smile at the van. "Benjamin."

Bone still had both hands on the wheel as if eager to drive off at a moment's notice. Arthur reached over the seat to give his shoulder a squeeze and then hopped out. "Looks like you took out Stein's projections for us," he said.

Mal took Cobb's hand and led them toward the far room. "As far as Stein's subconscious is concerned, all abandoned buildings are full of deranged homeless people," she said. "As soon as they showed signs of becoming agitated, I took care of it. A maze is useless against projections already at the center, no?"

"Thank you," said Cobb. "That was...a good idea. You're right." It wasn't until they were through the door that he heard Bone slip out of the van. "So is everything set up?"

Mal pointed to the center of the small room, where a PASIV was set out and open on a square card table. Four office chairs surrounded it; Arthur grabbed one and wheeled it out. "I'll get Stein," he offered, and on his way out shot Cobb a look that clearly said, _Handle this._

Cobb sighed. "Mal." He squeezed her hand. "You're not supposed to be here."

"I thought you could use my help," she said. Her eyes narrowed. "Especially considering whose dream this is. I still don't trust him."

Cobb glanced to the door and back. "I don't either, really, but he does good work."

"Oh please. If he wasn't so amateurish I wouldn't have had to clean this place out, now would I?" Mal leaned over the card table and began setting the PASIV. "Half an hour should be more than enough. Do you want me to forge Jensen for you? It's been a while since I tried forging, but I'm sure Stein won't be able to tell the difference."

"No, that's not necessary." Cobb shook himself and moved to help her. "I have a plan. I just need you to...watch my back."

Arthur returned, pushing the still-unconscious Stein in the office chair. He didn't say anything as he rolled up Stein's sleeve and allowed Mal to insert the IV, but when Mal took to one of the chairs herself, he immediately straightened up. "You're coming with us?"

"Unless you'd rather I stay here," she said. Her gaze slid to the doorway where Bone was hanging back, watching the proceedings uncomfortably. "I could help Benjamin keep Stein's projections at bay."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Cobb said quickly. He sat down next to Mal and slipped the needle into his arm. "Like I said, I'm going to recreate the office--with a few modifications--and get in close to Stein. Arthur, just find yourself an office and wait for my signal. You might need to play the part of the compromised employee, depending on how Stein is down there."

"All right." Arthur checked Stein's pulse one more time and then joined them. He looked to Bone. "If you need help up here, just give me a kick."

"Don't worry about me," said Bone without taking his eyes off Mal.

Cobb closed his eyes. He played back the last hour against the black of his eyelids; he easily recalled the sterile hallways and straight-angled offices, but when Mal's warm hand slid into his, his concentration faltered. Her soft skin awoke in him memories of the cityscapes they had built together, glowing hearths wrapped in pristine skyscrapers, empty beaches far removed from Stein's rainy metropolis. When he heard Arthur press the plunger he reeled himself in, just in time for the drug to take over his system.

***

When Cobb opened his eyes, it was _still_ raining.

He had been hoping that he could count on his subconscious to rectify the troubling weather, but not only were the storm clouds as oppressive as ever, he had managed to place himself in the middle of a cross walk, with no umbrella and far removed from any shelter. Within seconds he was soaked through.

Mal's hand was still tucked neatly in his. "Are _you_ doing this?" Cobb asked her as they crossed the street, unhurried, and ducked under Markneuheiten's entranceway.

"It is raining in the level above," Mal said coyly. "And in reality. Stein's subconscious expects rain."

Puddles sloshed at their ankles, and the feeling of icy water seeping into his socks remind Cobb of waking up in the ocean. He could almost taste salt at the back of his throat. "Mal." He faced her, her bare shoulders cold beneath his hands. "I know you're trying to help, but you can't stay here," he said. "Arthur and I can handle it. You need to go."

"Why?" She stared back at him, shivering but determined. "You need me here. I can distract Stein's projections--I can forge Jensen for you. How are you even going to get to Stein?"

"I'll figure something out. I always do." He tried to smile and wasn't successful. "But you've done enough, and it's time for you to leave. Please; I'll come back after the job and let you know how everything went. I'll even bring Arthur."

"You promised you wouldn't leave me behind," said Mal. Her eyes bore into him. "Have you forgotten?"

Cobb had to look away. His hands tightened and trembled against her shoulders, and knots lodged in his throat, and he almost gave in. "I'm breaking that promise," he said, ripping the words out. "You're staying here, Mal. I have to keep going."

Her eyes widened, but before she could reply he let go and turned away. "You're just a projection," he continued as he headed for the entrance. "I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be, before you put the job in jeopardy."

Cobb shoved through the glass doors and there found Arthur waiting for him. "Sorry," he said as he tried, in vain, to wring some of the rain out of his coat and hair. "But I handled it, all right? She's not going to cause any trouble."

Arthur frowned past him, and when Cobb gathered the courage to glance back, he shivered at the sight of Mal still standing under the canopy where he had left her, staring straight ahead, unmoving. Stein's projections milled past her, some bumping her shoulder to no reaction.

"Are you all right?" Arthur asked.

"Fine." Cobb turned them both away from the doors and continued inside. "Let's just get this job over with."

The lobby was just as they had left it. Despite his fragmented concentration Cobb's subconscious had provided every detail in near perfect clarity, down to the colored notes in the security cubicle and Cobb's photo on the wall. Cobb slicked his hair back and instructed himself sternly not to look back a second time as he and Arthur approached security. _All the date references in the building should refer Stein to a week ago,_ he reminded himself. _I'll get back to his office--I'll suggest hiring an extractor. We'll get the name together just as Stein would have. This is going to work._

Cobb clipped his ID badge to his lapel and smiled to the guards going into the metal detector. His friendly acknowledgement was not met with the familiar nods and wave-through that he had expected; the guard eyed him coldly, and as Cobb passed he nudged his associate as if in warning. Suspicion rippled amongst the men and through the lobby like a tangible pulse, but it wasn't until Arthur shot him a hard look that Cobb knew for sure something was definitely wrong.

Cobb stepped through the metal detector and was stopped on the other side by a hand thudding onto his shoulder. "Mr. Hector," said Kortig. "Please come with me."

He looked to Arthur, who was shaking his head, tensing for a fight. "I don't suppose you had a Plan B?" Arthur asked dryly.

"I'm...working on it." Cobb sagged, but allowed Kortig to guide him no more than three steps before making a move; he shifted his weight and drove his heel back hard into Kortig's kneecap. Something gave, and with the added attack of Arthur rushing him from behind, the big man went down. More security reached for them, and Cobb very nearly took a baton to the head, but his reflexes were just sharp enough to put him ahead of their grasping hands and swinging weapons. Arthur knocked two more off their feet and then they were running full out for the stairwell.

"You said the projections would forget about us once we were down a level," said Arthur as they slammed through the door. He reached behind him and pulled a previously-absent handgun from his belt.

"Did I?" Cobb engaged the door's manual lock and then hurried up the stairs two at a time. "Stein's subconscious is even sharper than I thought."

Arthur grumbled a curse and followed. "So now what? Let them kill us so we wake up, and try again? No matter what we dream up now Stein's going to be agitated."

"I know, I know." They passed the second floor, which Cobb also locked, and kept going. "There's got to be a way we can work it to our advantage. If we can convince Stein that--"

"At this rate we're not going to even _get_ to Stein," Arthur interrupted. "You do realize he's--"

A door banged above them, and they halted, listening. Men's voices echoed down from the fourth floor, and mixed with them the unmistakable, metallic clang of a gun slide being racked. Without other options Cobb and Arthur rushed the last few steps to the third floor landing and ducked out of the stairwell.

"I'll make us another stairwell," Cobb said as they passed the cafeteria. "Another route, straight up to Stein on the eighteenth."

Arthur shook his head. "That's how we got in trouble last time." He paused at the cafeteria window and pointed out the handful of workers that were still in their seats, lazily enjoying their morning coffee. "Right now it's just security after us, but if you start changing things again we're going to have the whole building after us--and everyone outside it. We can't fight an army, Cobb."

"No..." Cobb frowned through the window at the clueless workers. He remembered the glossy looks they had given him only minutes ago when realizing for the first time that they were not real, looks they would give him if he dared to change their environment again. It was an eerie transformation he'd seen too many times; sometimes he even wondered what it felt like to be a projection, to be oblivious, acting out his part until the moment the world turned and reminded him that he was only someone else's soulless puppet. He wondered if it felt as unrelentingly defeating as waking up out of a perfect dream into an empty hotel room.

"It's strange, isn't it," Cobb said, his hands to the glass. "Watching everyone around you realize they're not real."

Arthur cast a wary look to the stairwell door. "What?"

"I bet even someone like Stein would find it unsettling."

"What are you talking about?"

The door finally burst open, and Arthur grabbed Cobb by the arm, trying to drag him into retreat. Cobb resisted, and used his greater weight to pull Arthur back down the hall to the cafeteria entrance. "I have a plan," he assured as they weaved through the tables and headed for the kitchen. "Just play along."

"There's no way out of the kitchen," said Arthur, but with security closing in he had no choice other than to follow. "We're going to get pinned down."

"That's fine--if this doesn't work, they'll just kill us and we'll wake up." Cobb stepped instinctively over the space of floor where his chute had been and plowed into the kitchen. "Then we can start over with something else."

It took only a moment of Arthur waving his gun to get the kitchen staff out, and then he and Cobb were huddling at the back of the room behind a line of heavy cabinets. Security rushed in after them, but as soon as they were in range Cobb dreamed up a weapon of his own and fired just enough shots to make them cautious. "I have the data," he shouted. "I'll give it up, but only to Stein himself. Get him down here!"

"You're in no position to be making demands," one of the men shouted back.

"I have my cell phone here." Cobb waved it over the counter, and yanked it back just as a volley of bullets ricocheted across the countertops. Arthur winced and drew closer. "I'm going to email this data to Columbia if you don't get Stein down here to negotiate _now_!"

The guards clucked at each other, and when one crept closer Arthur fired a few more rounds to drive him back. "All right," came the answer. "But give up your guns."

"Not until Stein is here," said Cobb. "He's got five minutes!"

As the guards relayed the situation to their boss Arthur checked the state of his ammunition. "What are you planning?" he asked as he clicked the magazine back in place. "Even with the chance to talk to him there's no way he'll give anything up now. We're wasting time--we should just wake up."

"I have a plan," Cobb insisted. "But I don't think you'll like it." He dug his thumb into the hammer of his gun, determined to not admit that he wasn't sure he liked his plan, either. "Just let me do the talking, and follow my lead." He flashed Arthur a brief and bitter smirk. "My plans always work out, don't they? Do you still have your earbud in?"

"Yeah," Arthur replied, and he seemed to relax a little, nudging one of the metal cabinet doors across from him so that he could use it as a mirror to the entranceway. "But no, they don't _always_ work."

Within the five minutes Stein's irritated growl echoed back to then, and Kortig's with it. "Stein is here," said Kortig. "Now throw out your weapons, both of you."

Cobb obediently tossed his handgun over the counter, and after some coaxing, Arthur did the same. Security rushed forward with guns drawn and grabbed both men, hauling them into the cafeteria to be cast in front of their boss. By then their numbers had grown to a dozen, and a dozen more of the building's staff stood around the edges of the room, watching the showdown in fear and shock. It was just as Cobb had hoped.

"Carl," said Stein, glaring down at them with cold animosity. "This is a bitter disappointment. I never would have expected a stunt like this from you."

Cobb took a deep breath. _The worst that can happen is you wake up,_ he reminded himself, and with that reassurance he was able to assemble confidence in his face. "I'm not Carl Hector," he said. "And this isn't Kurt." 

"Oh?" Stein leaned back, unimpressed. "Then who _are_ you? You work for Columbia, I assume."

"No." Cobb licked his lips and picked the first name that came to him. "My name is Mr. Charles. I don't have any data." With one hand up to placate the guards, he retrieved his cell phone and tossed it to Kortig. "I just needed to get to you, Mr. Stein. To deliver a warning."

"A warning." Stein glanced to Kortig, who was busy tapping at the cell phone in search of its latest calls and contacts. "From whom?"

"From Jensen," said Cobb, and Stein tensed. "You hired him to look after your subconscious mind, right? Well you've been compromised. Extractors are here, and they're trying to break into your mind. I need to move you somewhere secure."

"More secure than this?" Stein gestured to the men around him, two of which were brandishing firearms, the rest armed with batons. "What extractors would be bold enough to come to my building in broad daylight, against all this security?"

Cobb met his gaze seriously. "We're not in your building, Sir," he said. "And this isn't your security."

"What are you doing?" Arthur hissed, shifting on his knees.

"You're being held in an abandoned warehouse in the industrial district," Cobb went on. All around Stein's workers stood a little taller, watched him a little more closely. "You got there after you were kidnapped from your office this morning. It's exactly what Jensen warned you about when you became interested in extraction in the first place, isn't it? This feeling that you're not where you're supposed to be. That you can't remember how and when you got here."

Stein's brow furrowed, and he started to protest, but then Cobb turned his head. Stein followed the movement of his gaze across the room and saw his projections--men and women he likely knew and saw every day--gradually going slack. The workers stopped their huddling, each personality tick melting away in favor of the broad strokes of instinctual, soulless attention. Even the guards were growing eerily silent, their fidgeting ceasing, the sweat evaporating from their brows. All around them human beings were being replaced with shadows bearing empty eyes.

Cobb had seen it a hundred times but it still chilled him; he could see that same prickling anxiety in Stein, in the way his eyes darted, and his fists tightened in his pockets. Beside him, Arthur was holding his breath, but Cobb suspected his apprehension to be focused entirely elsewhere. _I'm sorry, Arthur,_ he thought. He gave Arthur a tiny squeeze at his elbow while Stein was distracted. He tried to convey through his eyes what he meant to do. _But you were always the better decoy._

"What is this?" Stein demanded, gaping at the room that was suddenly full of strangers. "What's going on?"

"I told you--you're in the middle of an extraction." Cobb pushed slowly to his feet, and Arthur followed. He couldn't tell if Arthur had understood his message or not. "These people don't work for you. They're not real." He took a step closer. "You're dreaming, Mr. Stein. And one of these men or women is here to steal from you."

The guard on Cobb's left lifted his gun, but Cobb was expecting it, and he managed to swing his arm just in time to divert the muzzle. It left the man open for a fist to crash into his jaw. As he reeled back Cobb managed to jerk the weapon out of his hands, and he turned, aiming directly at Arthur.

Arthur flashed Cobb a look that he had seen maybe too many times, to the tune of _we're going to have a conversation about this later._ But he had caught on, and he lurched out of the way, allowing Cobb's shots to rip through the pair of guards that had moved to his back. With Cobb's firing as a distraction Arthur was able to incapacitate the second of the armed guards with a few quick punches, and then he dashed for the exiting, gunning down Stein's workers on the way.

Cobb kept his finger on the trigger. While several of Stein's projections gave chase after Arthur just as many stayed behind, and he backed into the wall to keep from being flanked. Stein threw himself behind a table, cursing, as Cobb made precise work of his attackers. Seeing the hapless office drones and researchers collapsing beneath rounds of lead turned his stomach, but he continued to tell himself that it was only a dream--they weren't real--they couldn't even feel it.

As soon as the cafeteria was empty Cobb rounded the nearby table and hauled Stein back to his feet. "What in God's name have you done?" Stein cried, staring at the bloodied, sometimes twitching bodies in horror. "You just--"

"Mr. Stein, you have to listen to me very carefully," said Cobb. He positioned Stein behind him and headed for the door as if protecting him. "You're dreaming right now. None of this is real--these people aren't dead, they were never _people_ to begin with. They're projections, under the control of Columbia's extractors, and if they catch you they're going to get everything they want out of you."

Stein followed several steps behind. His bravado had not faded entirely, but he was shaken, and his eyes kept going to the bodies. "Then who the hell are you? If I'm dreaming then wake me up!"

"I can't do that, Mr. Stein." Cobb leaned into the hallway. He could no longer see Arthur or the flock of projections that had chased him out, but he could hear gunshots from down the hall. "I'm not exactly real, either."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I'm a projection." The words came out of him almost automatically--he had no idea what he was really doing or where it would take him, but Stein's attention was absolute. It was his only chance. "Jensen implanted me in your subconscious so that you'd be protected from extraction like this."

"Subconscious security?" When Cobb moved into the hall it took Stein a moment to steel himself into the same. "But I didn't hire Jensen for that."

"Jensen's a tricky man," said Cobb, biting back a scowl. He waved for Stein to follow him to the elevator. "Listen; I don't think the sedation will last long, but we're totally outnumbered here. We need to find you someplace secure, and..." Cobb's pulse fluttered with a moment of inspiration. "I need backup. We have to get your mind to provide us with projections that can help us fight off these extractors."

"But if I'm dreaming, weren't _those_ my projections?" said Stein.

Cobb held out his hand. "Give me your override key for the elevator."

Stein hesitated but finally handed it over. "I know a thing or two about shared dreaming," he said. "If you're a projection why is it that you--"

"Please, Mr. Stein, there isn't time to explain dream concepts this complicated." The elevator opened, and once they were inside Cobb used Stein's key to bypass the security lockout and set them on a path directly to the basement garage. "We need to appeal to your instinctual subconscious--fight these extractors with extractors already on your side. Fire with fire, understand?"

"No, I don't understand," Stein continued to protest. He edged away from Cobb, watching him suspiciously. "How about you dream us up an army if what we need is firepower?"

"It doesn't work that way." Cobb hesitated to push further, but if Stein _actually_ knew as much about shared dreaming as he claimed, he would have been caught already. _I'll just have to keep close track of my bullshit._ "We need to find your projection of Jensen, or find a way to make your mind produce him. Can you call him?"

Stein shook his head but pulled his phone out anyway. "This is absurd," he grumbled as he dialed. "How do I know _you're_ not an extractor?"

"If I was I would have you tied to a chair by now," Cobb said without missing a beat. "Torturing you for information." When Stein glanced up, Cobb made his face hard. "That's why they do extraction, you know. Torture in the mind doesn't leave scars."

Stein tried not to look intimidated as he put the phone to his ear. "Jensen." He pursed his lips and covered the mic to speak to Cobb. "But this isn't really Jensen, this is...my projection?"

"Tell him to meet us," Cobb insisted. "Somewhere safe. And to bring any extractors in town with him."

He hefted his gun just in case Stein was considering more stall tactics, and it did the trick; Stein related Cobb's plan. Taking the brief window for what it was, Cobb turned away just enough to whisper for his earbud, "Arthur?"

" _You're crazy_ ," Arthur huffed. He sounded like he was running. " _This is never going to work. What are you even telling him? You can't just make up the rules._ "

Cobb wanted to reply _Of course I can_ , but Stein was already hanging up, and the elevator doors were opening. "Let's move," he said, pushing Stein through.

A few straggling workers turned into dream killers as soon as Cobb and Stein entered the garage. Fortunately Stein's imagination hadn't improved since the first level, and Cobb had no problem taking care of a few clumsy office drones. They piled into Stein's luxury car, Cobb behind the wheel, peeling out into the abominable rain.

" _I'm pinned down in the fucking executive bathroom,"_ Arthur reported. Even in Cobb's ear it was difficult to make him out over the pounding on the roof and traffic blaring all around them. _"I'm not sure I can get out of this."_

"Where did you tell Jensen to meet us?" Cobb asked of Stein as he swerved out of the path of a racing SUV.

"Winde Café." Stein sank into the leather seat to peer out the window with as little of himself visible as possible.

"I said somewhere _secure_."

"It's where he asked to meet before," Stein grumbled.

When he pointed out the next turn Cobb remembered he knew the place: the same café Jensen had arranged their first pickup to be. "Winde Café," Cobb repeated. His dream Berlin was too much of a maze for Stein's projections to be able to locate the place based on a name, but Arthur would--hopefully--remember the layout. The basic structure was a maze he had used before.

As usual, Arthur understood him perfectly. " _I'll try to get there, but there's a mob of them trying to get in here."_ He was interrupted by a cacophony of gunfire. " _And no, don't go altering things now; it'll just get you caught faster. You're on your own._ "

Cobb clenched his teeth and forced the pedal down.

The maze served its purpose. Stein's projections were fierce but not organized, and by the time Cobb made the last turn he had lost any pursuers that had been on their tail. He screeched into the first available parking space and hauled Stein onto the sidewalk. _A face and a name, that's all we need,_ he thought, and as they hurried from awning to awning he spotted Jensen huddling with a stranger just outside Winde's picture window. Cobb's pulse raced. 

The stranger's back was turned. He was broad-shouldered, with short, brown hair slicked back by the rain. Cobb couldn't identify him by his worn suit alone, but he took quick notice of a watch chain disappearing into his pocket. Only half a block away, their target stood waiting. All he needed was the name.

A gun hammer clicked close to his temple. Cobb halted, and before he even had time to look, chilled fingertips brushed the shell of his ear and plucked out his earbud. It tapped quietly against the sidewalk and was crushed beneath a woman's heel moments later.

"Shh. You don't want Arthur to hear this."

Cobb tried not to look. His goal was only a few shops away--Jensen had even noticed them and was looking their way. If only the man he was with would turn, he would at least have a face. When the muzzle of a handgun kissed the side of his throat, he had little choice left. "Mal...." He turned, a cold sweat mingling with the rain already soaking through him. "What are you doing here?"

A strand of hair clung to the corner of Mal's lips when she smiled. "Arthur was right," she said, and when she turned her eyes on Stein, Cobb took a step to put himself between them. "You can't just make up the rules."

"Who is this?" Stein demanded. He glanced nervously to the projections on the street who were gradually becoming alerted to the poised handgun. "Is she...?"

"I understand," said Mal. Her smile faltered, and when she drew it back it was tight, almost pained. "You don't need me anymore. I knew it would come to this; that you would try to leave me behind."

"We don't have time for this," Cobb said, his heart inching up his throat. He took Stein by the elbow and started to lead him down the sidewalk, but Mal circled in front of them, and when she turned her weapon on Stein Cobb was forced again to halt. "Mal, please--I told you, we'll sort this all out later."

Mal shook her head slowly. "But I won't let you," she said, with the quiet finality he knew too well. "Whatever you think you have to do, I won't be the one to leave you behind."

Stein glanced between them, and as the city-goers crowded closer to them, he seemed to realize that their attention was entirely on Cobb instead of him. He straightened up. "Who are you?" he demanded again, this time of Cobb. "Who is Mr. Charles?"

Mal smirked. "Mr. Charles," she repeated. "Wasn't that the name you gave your secret agent persona? When you were in the fourth grade?"

"Mal," said Cobb, his hand tight around his gun. He looked past her, where the light had faded from Jensen's eyes and he was stalking forward with the same mindless malice of Stein's other projections. He held his breath, expecting the stranger to do the same, but instead the broad-shouldered man slipped back into the café without having ever presented his face.

"I saw your old journals when we moved," Mal went on. "With your Mr. Charles adventures. I'm not surprised it's the name you used."

Stein backed away. "I was right--it's _you_." He shook his finger at Cobb as the projections moved in around him, shielding him. " _You're_ the extractor!"

Cobb took in a deep breath; he had only one option left. "Even if you try to wake up, you can't," he told Stein, forcing whatever confidence he could into the words. "There's only one way to beat an extractor, and that's with another extractor."

He turned to run. The café door wasn't far and he knew the interior wasn't large--there was still a chance of catching up to the stranger. He didn't make it more than four steps. Stein's projections swarmed him in a fury, grabbing his arms and kicking his legs out from under him. He hit the sidewalk hard, bruising his elbows and knees, still struggling. Then the bullet hit. It was a kind shot, all things considered: pierced his heart clear through. He was granted only a brief sensation of the blood pouring out of him, of rain spitting into his open wound, before the earth fell out from under him and the dream stripped away.

Cobb awoke in the warehouse, sweating. As he twisted in his chair, disoriented and gasping, Arthur grabbed for his wrist. "Cobb?" The needle stung on its way out. "Cobb, are you all right? Did you get it?"

"Arthur?" Cobb waved him off. A vigorous rub to his face helped with his clarity, but just as he tried to formulate a proper answer he was cut off by the roar of gunfire. His hands flew to his ears and he scanned the room for the source.

Their warehouse stood in shambles. All around the walls had caved in, and holes gaped in the ceiling, leaving the concrete floors slick with rain. Many of the jagged openings had been crudely bandaged with wooden planks and lines of razor wire, like a battlefield trench. As Cobb gaped at the transformed scenery he finally located their dreamer, squatting in the doorway barricaded with bricks and hunks of raw steel. He had changed to fit the new backdrop; instead of a mechanic's uniform, Bone was clad in gray army fatigues, loaded with equipment, an automatic rifle barking in his hands and a cigarette burning out the corner of his mouth.

Bone glanced back during a break in the volley. "Did you get it?"

Cobb smeared the spot of blood on his forearm and checked on Stein. "What the hell happened up here?"

Bone ripped a grenade off of belt, pulled the pin, and hurled it past his barricades. The blast ripped down an already crumbling wall, revealing a collection of Stein's projections: German GSG 9 units in full tactical attire, armed to their gills. Bone's rifle picked off a pair of them while the rest escaped to better cover.

Bone tossed his rifle to Arthur, who automatically reloaded it from a crate of ammunition in the corner, and in the meantime resorted to a handgun. "Little while after you went under, the projections went apeshit on me," he said. "Did you break cover?"

"Stein knows he's dreaming," replied Arthur. He slid into position next to Bone and steadied the rifle, taking careful aim at the police and various military officers trying to approach through the cluttered warehouses. The ease and precision with which he took on his new role as gunner was as impressive as ever, and Cobb appreciated it even more when he didn't elaborate on how their cover had been blown. "Level two is collapsing, which means this one probably won't remain stable for long, either."

Bone grunted. "Do you need it to be stable? Did you get the name or not?"

Cobb hunkered down with them, though after seeing the efficiency of Bone and Arthur's cooperation decided it best not to interrupt with his own, comparably modest marksmanship. "It's a man," he said. "Built, Caucasian, brown-haired. Mid to late thirties, maybe. I didn't see his face but it wasn't someone I recognized."

"McAllister?" Bone suggested. "Grace?"

"No--not American." Cobb glanced back and noted uneasily that Stein was beginning to stir. "Arthur's introduced me around that circle."

"Sergei?" offered Arthur, but Bone immediately shook his head.

"Couldn't be Sergei," he said grimly.

A gasp alerted them to the pair still connected to the PASIV behind them. Even having been given a few minutes Cobb had not prepared in the slightest for what he would do when Mal's wide brown eyes were on him again. He was spared having to choose; as soon as she lurched upright, a gun in her hand, Cobb caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The gunshots from so close were almost deafening, and his ears rang as he watched bullet after bullet rip into Mal's fluttering sundress. Her body tumbled from the office chair as if in slow motion and crumpled without a sound.

Cobb's body moved without him; he gripped Bone's arm in both hands, shoving his aim off in vain. "What are you doing?" he shouted, senseless, a taste of bile at the back of his throat. Mal's blood seeped across the concrete. "What the hell was that for?"

"Get off me or I'll shoot you, too!" Bone snarled, and when Cobb didn't let go fast enough, he punched Cobb full in the face. "I'm fucking sick of this!"

Cobb collapsed onto his back. His entire head was throbbing, and blood poured into his sinuses and down the back of his throat. Bone and Arthur were still arguing overhead, but he couldn't make them out--everything was blurring and buzzing. When he tried to roll himself upright he only made it to his side, and was put at unwitting eye level with the gory results of Bone's temper. He shuddered. Mal's eyes were closed but her lips were upturned, as if she had expected it. As if she had welcomed it.

Stein was making a run for it. Arthur tried to intercept, but the earth pitched beneath them, and all around the decaying warehouses began to rumble and collapse. Each falling raindrop tore at the buildings and surrounding vehicles like bullets raking Bone's dream apart at the seams. The whole world was falling apart. Cobb dropped onto his back again and stared, disoriented and nauseas from the overwhelming taste of the blood dripping into his lips. For one mad instant he was convinced that it was Mal's blood, and he was so terrified by the prospect that he almost didn't notice Jensen trying to breach Bone's haphazard perimeter.

The police were swarming in--some were trying to reclaim Stein, others pouncing on Bone in his distraction. More than their attire was uniform. Cobb stared blearily from one to the next, despite his present state more than certain that he was not mistaken: every man was Jensen. Each officer was long-faced and spectacled, with Jensen's pursed lips and Jensen's unimpassioned eyes. Stein had made an army of him.

"Only an extractor can beat another extractor."

Cobb blinked up at the broad-shouldered stranger standing over him. Mid-thirties, brown-haired, unshaven, lips full and smiling. A gun in his hand and a watch chain disappearing into his pocket.

"Isn't that what you said, Mr. Charles?" the man said, crouching down next to Cobb. "And what if I'm more than an extractor?"

Cobb scarcely breathed. He could hear Bone's curses turn to a wet gurgle, and somewhere even closer, Arthur fell over dead. Sickening, that he recognized the sound. "What's more than an extractor?" he asked hoarsely.

The stranger flashed a bitter smirk. "Inception, Mr. Charles." He pressed the muzzle of his gun against Cobb's suddenly racing heart. "Give my regards to Ms. Weston."

***

When Cobb woke up, the rain no longer surprised him.

He kept his eyes closed for a moment, listening to the sound of it on the roof of the ambulance. He breathed it into his lungs, tasted antiseptic and felt the vehicle jostle with every uneven patch of road. "British," he said. "A British accent. Whiskers, and bad teeth." His fists clenched at his sides. "Stein must think he's pretty good."

Bone went very still next to him. "British," he repeated. "Fuck."

Arthur twisted in his seat. "Sound like someone you know?"

"Yeah." When Cobb opened his eyes he felt a childish satisfaction from the discomfort in Bone's face. "It's fucking Eames."

"Eames," Cobb echoed. "Who is he?"

Bone leaned forward to check Stein's pulse. "You can go ahead and give his name to Weston," he said. "It's not like she'll ever catch him anyway."

Cobb settled--he kept his eyes on Stein and his mouth shut for the rest of the trip to the hospital. He could feel Arthur watching him but he pretended not to notice. He replayed Eames' words over and over in his mind, and had to tell himself several times that the man was only a projection, relating boasts from Stein's subconscious. It didn't make it any less unsettling.

The ambulance pulled into Franziskus Hospital, and Cobb tried to stay out of the way as Bone helped their driver unload Stein into the nurses' hands and Arthur casually repacked the PASIV. "We should split up," he found himself suggesting as he leaned against the back bumper. "Meet back up at the hotel later. I'll go to Weston with what we have."

"The job included finding out what this 'Eames' is after," said Arthur. "We don't have that."

For the first time in a long while, Cobb ached for a cigarette. "Then maybe we don't get all our fee. I'll try to swing it as much as I can, but I don't think we'll have another chance at Stein." He looked to Bone. "Or you could just ask Eames what he's up to, since you seem to know him."

Bone's hands twitched in the pockets of his jackets. "Transfer my share of whatever she ends up paying," he told Arthur. "It'll be enough." He scowled. "I'm getting out of Europe for a while."

"I'm sorry, for this," said Arthur. "You were right--I owe you."

"Yeah, you do." He shook Arthur's hand and glanced only briefly to Cobb. "Take care of yourself."

"You too."

Bone stalked off, shedding his EMT jacket on the way. The hospital staff looked on in confusion as he stuffed it into a trashcan and kept going. Cobb and Arthur made the slightly less conspicuous choice of dumping theirs in the back of the ambulance before beating a hasty retreat.

"At least it wasn't a total bust, I guess," said Arthur as they took to the sidewalk. When Cobb didn't reply, he cast him a sideways look. "What?"

"What?" Cobb repeated, staring straight ahead.

"What's wrong? You've got that look on your face."

Cobb didn't slow. "I don't have any look."

"How did you know he was British?" Arthur persisted. A cab pulled up to the curb and he stuck his arm out to catch it. "You didn't learn that in level two."

"I gave Stein a suggestion." Cobb opened the door. "His subconscious followed up. Honestly I'm a little surprised it worked..."

Cobb slipped into the cab, and was so distracted by his racing thoughts that it wasn't until he started to scoot over that he realized the cab wasn't empty. A man was already nestled into the far seat: broad-shouldered, brown-haired, whiskers. The sight of him smirking at them with such calm contemplation sent Cobb's hand quickly into his pocket. He pressed his thumb into the tip of his totem until it stung but still wasn't sure he could trust it.

"Good day, gentlemen," said Eames as Arthur hesitantly joined them. "Where to?"

Arthur glanced between the two of them warily. "Cobb?"

Cobb took in a sharp breath and managed to fit a smile into place. "Mr. Eames, isn't it?" When Arthur started, Cobb gave his wrist a squeeze to keep him still. "I expected that we'd meet sooner or later, but maybe not this soon."

"I couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet the new Americans on this side of the pond," said Eames. "Now, then. Where were you headed? The driver's waiting for a destination."

Arthur shifted anxiously and related, "The Marriott, Postdamer." Not the hotel they were staying in. "How did you know to find us here?" he asked. "Did Jensen sell us out, too? Not even he knew we were going after Stein today."

Eames snorted. "Sell out? And here I thought you knew the man. Jensen's actions can't be described in such petty terms." He settled more comfortably in his seat. "As it happens, I had my own dealings with Herr Stein today. And the very lovely Greta, though I don't believe you've met the young lady."

His smile was hard, searching, but Cobb wasn't about to give him too much. "Stein's secretary. No, I haven't had that pleasure. What do you want?" he quickly changed the subject. "Are you going to turn us in?"

"He can try," Arthur muttered. "And see how far he gets."

Eames laughed. "Tense, aren't we? What's the matter? Didn't get what you wanted from Herr Stein? He's a tough old nut to crack, that's for certain. He must have been a joy to work on." When Arthur made a face, he went on. "You ought to know, the authorities are not the ones that you truly have to worry about. The worst they do is lock you up, after all."

Cobb continued to finger his totem, but no matter how many times he traced its familiar curves, it still felt too far away from him. "For some people, being locked up _is_ the worst they can do," he said grimly.

Eames frowned thoughtfully. He kept Cobb's gaze for a long moment as if fully comprehending the meaning behind the weary admission. "Indeed."

"So," Cobb said, trying to push past it. "You're not going to turn us in."

"Now why would I want to do that?" Eames shrugged his own slight discomfort off. "Few enough good players in Europe at the moment to work with, after all. Most seem to burn themselves out after a few jobs and aren't in it for the long run. You just appeared on the scene recently, from what I gather, though your contacts are good."

"And?" Arthur asked when Eames trailed off.

"I'm taking care of a few loose ends here in Berlin, but I'll be leaving soon enough. It is a very lovely place to visit." A touch of true irritation marred his face. "You've made my job a bit more difficult, but it remains to be seen if it all worked out or not. Such is the nature of the field."

Cobb's heart skipped, and though he knew better than to tip his hand, he couldn't help himself. "So you've done it already," he blurted out. "You were at Stein's collecting payment." When he followed the thought to its logical end he wanted to gloat, imagining the resistance Eames must have come upon in a freshly militarized dreaming mind, but something approaching panic was already simmering at the back of his lungs. "Did it work?"

Eames gave away nothing in his face. "Only time will tell."

The cab slowed outside the Marriott, and when Cobb reached for his wallet Eames abruptly smiled and motioned for him not to bother. "On me," he said. "Consider it a friendly gesture from a possible future colleague."

Arthur frowned incredulously. "After all that, you want to work together?"

"You can find me through the usual channels," Eames continued. "Jensen always keeps in touch with the ones in the business worth knowing." His lip quirked, and he offered his hand. "No need to hold grudges, is there?"

Cobb shook his hand despite Arthur's look of disapproval. "None at all."

They climbed out of the taxi, the last sight of Eames a flash of his smirk before he was driven away. Cobb and Arthur stood together in the rain, watching until it had turned a corner to seek another cab. "What the hell was that about?" Arthur grumbled.

"Not entirely sure." Cobb forced himself to let go of his totem as they climbed into the new cab. "But we need to get to Columbia."

***

"Half a fee is better than no fee," said Cobb when, an hour later, he and Arthur at last returned to their hotel. "And there's still the forty grand she paid us for the training. I'll make sure Bone gets the twenty he was promised."

Arthur shook his head as he peeled out of his vest. "Christ, Dom, what a job. I still can't quite get my head around what happened down there." He tried to watch Cobb without looking like he was watching. "For a second there, I thought that 'Mr. Charles' bullshit of yours was going to work."

"It did work," said Cobb. He stripped out of his layers of soaked clothing--it stuck to him like extra layers of skin, and he felt an uncharacteristic, almost manic relief with every piece removed. "It didn't get the projections off our back but it convinced Stein. I was only a few steps away from Eames the first time--it would have worked."

"So what went wrong?"

It was the tone Arthur used when he already knew the answer. Cobb kept his back turned, modesty his excuse as he changed into a dry shirt and loose-fitting pants. "It was my fault," he heard himself say. "I tipped him off. It was stupid, really. But now I know it can work." He gave his hair a brief toweling, just because it prevented Arthur from catching his eye a while longer. "Not to mention that suggestion I gave Stein traveled up a level. We didn't make the money we wanted, but it was worth it."

Arthur watched him a while longer, expecting more, but Cobb offered none. His thoughts were still whirling around the last important information he had learned and was withholding: everything was about to change. All of the shared dreaming community, rocked to its core by a concept he had hoped would never reach the waking world. Almost without realizing, Cobb retrieved his totem and spun it on the bedside table. Its quiet, rhythmic hum was lost to the rain.

Arthur stood still and silent, waiting until the top had wobbled enough to satisfy Cobb before fishing his wallet out of his pants pocket. "I'm going down to the restaurant for some lunch," he said slowly. "I'm starving. Are you coming? Or do you want to..."

He glanced to the PASIV. Cobb looked, too, and despite being finally out of the rain, his fingertips went numb with cold. She was waiting for him--he could feel her, brimming at his edges, her hands sliding into his. He could taste her blood at the back of his throat.

"No--I'll come with you." Cobb drew himself to Arthur's side. "We still have a lot to talk about." He touched Arthur's shoulder to turn him away from the PASIV.

"You mean, Eames?" Arthur supposed as they left the room together.

"Jensen. We still have a fee to settle, and something to bargain with, considering we didn't sell him out after all." Cobb closed the door behind them. "And I think...we might have to ask him about helping us find a new architect."


End file.
